What You Pawn, I Will Redeem
by Yamitron
Summary: One-shot. Marik and Bakura decide to go to the Antique Roadshow to pawn an important object... Rated for language.


**[Author's Note:** This is a bit of a joke; it was thought up when my friend Mary Louise and I were brainstorming ideas for my YouTube channel where I make videos with plushies I made of Bakura and Marik. We thought of this, and it was a hilarious idea, but it wasn't quite do-able with plushies. So yes. It's a comedy. I wrote it, she edited it. With many a fangirl-squee typed in…]

"Quickly, quickly, in here! I've found it. We've got to move fast." Bakura said as he held open the door and ushered in Marik with a hand gesture. Marik ducked under Bakura's outstretched arm and ran inside the community center, protecting the drawstring bag in his arms. Marik ran inside and dodged down a hallway, flattening himself against a wall. He grasped the bag with one hand, and put his other over his chest, steadying his breath. Shortly after, Bakura walked backwards towards him, his eyes carefully surveying behind them, making sure they caught any and all movement, suspicious or otherwise.. Without turning around, he pushed on Marik, forcing him into an open door, then quickly closing it behind them and locking it.

"Were we seen? Or followed?" Marik said, having regained his breath.

Bakura shot him a look. "Would I be that stupid? No, we're completely alone."

"Excellent." Marik smirked. "I still have it. It's here in the bag. Should I take it out yet?"

"Sure, why not." Bakura said absentmindedly, still looking around anxiously. Marik started to undo the drawstring bag and reached in to take out the object inside, when Bakura suddenly hissed, "No wait!" Marik froze and looked up at him.

"I hear something." Bakura's eyes narrowed as he turned his head slightly to listen to the sounds from the hallway. Marik closed the bag, slung it over his shoulder, and began to slowly withdraw his Millennium Rod from one of his belt-loops behind him. Bakura edged over and flattened himself against the wall next to the door; ready to attack.

The door handle jiggled, and the person outside seemed to realize it was locked. They knocked three times and an frail sounding voice spoke.

"Is anyone in there?" Neither man made a sound. "We're about to start…" the person said, awkwardly. He stood there for a minute, and then they heard his footsteps awkwardly start and walk away. Bakura looked over at Marik. Their eyes met for a minute or two, and Marik put his rod safely away. "Let's Go." He mouthed. Bakura nodded and unlocked the door. He silently peeked out to see an old man disappear at the opposite end of the hall. Bakura slunk out and looked around them as Marik followed as quietly as he could.

Slightly hunched over, they prowled the hallway, listening for the slightest sound. Bakura always ducked whenever there was a door with a window, and walked in shadow where possible. _Wow, he really was a master thief thousand's of years ago..._ Marik thought. Marik was clumsier, tripping occasionally and earning several glares and looks of annoyance from Bakura. He smiled sheepishly and stood on his tiptoes to try and make less noise. This resulted in a face-plant on the ground. Marik groaned and flipped over, pushing himself up. As he stood, he came face to face with Bakura. Bakura's head was tilted far to the left, his eyes open as wide as they would go, his shoulders slumped, hands on his hips, and his bottom lip jutted out in an expression of utmost annoyance.

"Are you ignoring your brain, or were you born this mentally incompetent, you bloody prick?" Bakura turned around, rolling his eyes at the effeminate Egyptian before him, and Marik stifled a laugh.

They soon rounded the corner and entered the lobby of the large community center atrium. Marik clutched the bag with one hand, and wrapped the other around his Millennium Rod behind his back. He glanced around the place. Bakura stood straight up at his full height. He was quite taller than the others present, mainly because they were all old women, ranging from their early 50's to late 80's. Marik wrinkled his nose; the place smelled of rust, old perfume, and cat dander. Bakura looked at the many tables stationed, and his fingers twitched visibly. Marik leaned up to him and whispered, "Wait a moment… We have to pawn it first." Bakura looked quickly down at him.

"Screw it, I'm stealing things first. We can pawn it last." Bakura looked around yearningly at the people and their precious objects in hand. Marik sighed and slung the bag over his shoulder again and gestured to Bakura to lead the way. Bakura grinned evilly and strode off. Marik sighed and opted to be less forceful and take the psychological approach. He walked over to a table.

"Welcome to the Antique Roadshow! You'll need to wear a name tag, sir, if you plan on selling something." A woman in her 60's said to him from behind the counter. She had clearly dyed brown hair, overly- rouged cheeks, and smelled of perfume that was older than he was and applied in copious amounts daily.

He managed to smile. "Yes… Uhm, I shall indeed be selling something. Uh, I suppose you shall need my name then?" He said, as politely and formally as possible. She smiled at him and handed him a blank nametag and a sharpie. He signed it "Malik Blishtar". Not overly creative, but at least it was a pseudonym. She looked at it for a moment as if she knew it wasn't his real name.

That's quite a name you have there, I haven't seen it before." She said, attempting to make polite conversation.

Marik internally rolled his eyes. "Yes, ma'am as you can clearly see, I'm an Egyptian, and so I have an Egyptian name." He said, with an air of condesation.

She blushed. "Oh, you're right, I apologize." The corner of Marik's lips twitched, conveying a flash of a smile.

"Are you here to sell any of that lovely, uhm, jewelry you're wearing?" She asked.

This time Marik really did roll his eyes. "No," he said with a sigh, "This is just what I wear. Trust me, I've heard enough about that as it is." She looked away, her blush deepening. "_From a few limey bastards I know..._" he added, under his breath.

"I'm sorry, sir." She said apologetically. Marik's eyes met hers for a moment. As he was sticking his name tag to his chest, the woman continued to peer at him and said, "You have purple eyes…"

Marik's patience was officially gone. "Yes, well, you have what appears to be a degree in pointing out the obvious. Now please, shut the ferk up, or the janitor will have to clean bits of brain from the floor and that's always a mess."

The lady stared at him, shocked, as he rolled his eyes again and walked away. He quickly shook off her existence from his mind and continued weaving in and out of the crowd of people. He was jostled and he grasped the bag and his Millennium item even harder, making sure that it wouldn't get away from him. The many old people there stared at him as he passed, and he smirked to himself. A woman who looked to be 52 stopped dead in her tracks and stared at his hair and outfit. He was feeling like a bastard anyway, so he walked up to her. She noticed his approach and began looking apprehensive and eyed the people around her, as if to make sure she wasn't alone. Marik walked up and stopped dead in front of her. He folded his arms and tilted his head. She trembled and reached for her purse.

Marik laughed loudly. "I don't want your ferking money, lady. I'm not here to mug you." She still grasped her purse and started backing away. Marik stifled a chuckle. He decided to screw with her. Putting his rod in the belt loop behind him, he dropped the bag onto the floor and held out his arms and waved them about. He made big swooping movements while saying, "OoooOOoooOooh, I'm BIIIIGGGGGG!!! OOOoooOOoOO!" Her eyes widened and she ran away. He laughed, and as he reached back to protect his wallet, he caught the hand of the thief attempting to steal it.

"It's big things old ladies are afraid of, right?" He asked, crushing the thief's hand in his own.

"How the hell should I know? I don't care for old ladies. And if you're attempting to hurt me, you're failing." Bakura said as he winced.

"Yeah right, you lying bastard. I see you flinching." Marik said, squeezing the fingers more and then releasing them.

Bakura shook his hand once to get feeling back. "It wasn't my hand I was wincing from, you idiot." He said. "It was this huge-ass thing." He indicated the bulging sack he had slung across his back. Marik stared at it.

"Did you steal all that in the time I was gone?" He said in awe.

Bakura smirked. "I've also got this." He held up the rod. Marik's eyes widened as he reached for the non-existent rod in his back pocket.

"Hey!" He said, snatching it back. "How'd you get that?" Marik gripped it in his hand forcefully and then folded his arms.

Bakura's smirk widened. "You'd better keep a closer eye on your valuables, Binky Boy. Someone might come along and steal them." He turned his back to Marik and began to walk away.

Marik glared and ran to catch up to him. He grasped Bakura's shoulder and whipped him around to face himself. He glared into Bakura's eyes for a minute or so, then with a smile playing on the corners of his mouth, Marik said, "You're a real bastard. You know that, you idiot?"

Bakura grinned. "I'm well aware of that, thank you." He said. He put his hand on Marik's shoulder. "Come on, we've got to start moving faster." Marik smiled too and began to walk with him.

Marik grunted as he hauled the huge sack of money towards the car. "Hurry up, would you?" Bakura said, leaning lazily against the car.

"If you would ferking help me, maybe we would be done sooner." Marik said, irritated. Bakura just smirked and examined a spot on the ground as he waited for Marik to haul the bag to the car. He chuckled as he heard the occasional "Frigging Hell" and "Crap in a Bucket!" from the struggling Egyptian.

As Marik loaded the last bag into the trunk [and regained his lost breath,] he turned to Bakura. "So, … Kitty, what now?" Bakura narrowed his eyes.

"Well, we could either run away right now…" Marik didn't like this idea, and apparently it showed on his face, because Bakura continued, "Or… we could wait and see how he reacts, and THEN run like hell." Marik's eyes glinted as he grinned deviously. "Let's do it."

They crept back inside as discretely as they could. Marik located a closet quickly and they both scrambled inside. Bakura went in first, and pressed himself to the wall as Marik squeezed in after him. It was a tight fit; they barely got inside. Marik left the door open a crack so he could see the door inside. He waited, bent over so he could see and hear well. He heard Bakura mutter something about "So this is what thief shipping is…" and he elbowed Bakura in the gut as hard as he could. Bakura snorted, but stifled the noise.

Just as Marik's legs started to go numb, the doors burst open. Blinding light flooded the room as a dark figure was outlined against it, and stormed in. Everyone went silent and turned towards the figure. He stood there for a moment and looked at them, then,

"WHERE THE HELL IS MY GODDAMN PUZZLE?!"


End file.
